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hivemuthur · 13 days ago

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Hii! Could I request a Viktor x reader fic where the reader commissions an elevator be built in the academi/wherever his lab is, so viktor doesn't have to climb so many stairs and than getting stuck in the said elevator with viktor. I'm thinking reader with mild claustrophobia, love confession, whatever you see fit? (Smut/fluff, whatever) Thank youu❤️❤️

~🍒

Dear Anon, thank you for a lovely request! ❤️

Five Things

viktorxgn!reader mature! kissing, or rather making out, reader suffers anxiety attack, fluff!

author’s note: If you help me find an artist of this drawing I will be eternally grateful! Artist found, image description updated! Thank you! Can you tell I am obsessed with his neck?

word count: 2,7K

—

“Can you at least tell me if my current state of restriction leads to something beneficial?” Viktor whined, his hand clasped in yours as you blindfolded him and led him through the academy corridors.

“Trust me, it will be very beneficial,” you said matter-of-factly, not noticing the smirk on his face. The flirt dared to chuckle at that, and you shot him a look, a force of habit. “Maybe not as much as you think, whatever clatters around that head of yours.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know, dear friend,” Viktor mused, squeezing your hand tighter, his thumb ghosting over your index finger and sending goosebumps up your arm. Friend, of course—you were friends, and that was fine.

When you finally got there, mindful of all the plant pots, benches, and other objects cluttering the hallways—apparently, people would lose shoes, books, or once-bitten sandwiches—your face was beetroot red from all the teasing and handholding. You thanked the gods that all Viktor could see was the inside of your scarf.

“Are you ready?” you asked after clearing your throat.

“Depends. I trust you endlessly, so if you have led me to something dangerous, I am very much unready. If—” he accentuated, lifting his finger, picturing what kind of expression was painting itself on your face right now, “it’s in fact something very beneficial, I would like to think myself always ready for that.”

“You talk too much, mister,” you let out a strangled chuckle and began undoing the knot at the nape of his neck. Your fingers brushed the skin at his hairline, and Viktor shivered despite himself. A smile bloomed under your nose, as you tried to steady your breathing. “Here we go.”

You were still standing behind him, peeking over his shoulder, but you couldn’t see his expression. When no comment came for a while, you asked hesitantly, “What do you think?”

“You did this?” he mumbled quietly. His hand travelled to his back to find yours and lead you next to him. “How?”

“I didn’t do this exactly,” you said humbly, lowering your eyes to stare at your shoes. “But I might have bullied some people, who bullied other people, who commissioned other people to make it. Do you like it?”

“Do I like it? I… have no words.” The squeeze of his hand strengthened again as he walked up closer to study the ornamentations.

The elevator was not only functional but also beautiful. The outside frame was made of mixed metals, resembling both the design of the academy’s historical rooms and the specific curls and bends of hextech equipment. The inside was carefully crafted from deep, warm varnished wood.

You let out a breath you had been holding for far too long and laughed. “Well, I have to thank Janna for that miracle later,” you teased him.

Viktor’s mouth didn’t move an inch as he turned to face you and pulled you into an unexpected embrace. His cheeks were faintly pink when his arms cradled you, and you could feel the press of his cane’s handle against your shoulder blade. Letting out another breath you’d been holding, you relaxed into it and wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing in the scent of parchment and oil that clung to him.

“Should we… test it?” he offered playfully, his amber eyes sparkling with excitement.

You hesitated, but the way his hand remained clasped around yours melted your resolve. “Alright, but only if you don’t start analysing every bolt and rivet,” you teased, trying to keep your voice steady.

As you stepped into the elevator together, your heart began to beat faster. The space, while beautifully crafted, felt far too confined. The warm varnished wood and intricate metal details seemed to close in around you the moment Viktor gently pulled the handle to close the door. It slid with a deep metallic groan, settling into place with an audible clunk.

Your breathing hitched slightly, but you kept a smile plastered on your face, still holding his hand as if it were a lifeline.

Viktor, utterly delighted, hummed appreciatively as the mechanism engaged. “Remarkable. The craftsmanship is truly exceptional—the balance of form and function. And these gears, see the way they interlock? It’s as though—” He paused mid-sentence, glancing down at you. “Are you alright? You’re gripping my hand rather tightly. Not that I am complaining of course.”

You blinked up at him, your chest tightening as you struggled to keep calm. “I’m fine,” you lied, your voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

Viktor’s brow furrowed in concern, but before he could press further, the elevator lurched and trembled under your feet. A hollow metallic thud reverberated through the space, and then… nothing. The lift shuddered and stopped.

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath, your hand darting to the handle. You tugged on it once, then again, harder this time, but it wouldn’t budge. The handle jammed in place, as immovable as the walls surrounding you.

“Wait, hold on,” Viktor said, his voice calm but curious as he leaned forward to inspect the mechanism. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s stuck,” you replied quickly, trying not to sound panicked. Your hand dropped from the handle as your fingers fidgeted at your side, searching for something to grasp. “It’s not moving. It’s… oh gods.”

You started breathing faster, each inhale sharper than the last.

“Hey,” Viktor said softly, his tone gentle now, his attention fully on you. “What’s going on?”

“I—” you hesitated, your voice catching as you looked at him. You didn’t want to ruin the moment, but there was no hiding it now. “I might not be… the best in small spaces.”

His face softened instantly, the corners of his mouth dipping into a sympathetic frown. “You’re claustrophobic?”

“Maybe a little. And this…” You gestured vaguely at the enclosed space, the walls that felt closer with each passing second. “I don’t know. It’s just—”

“Alright, alright,” Viktor interrupted gently, turning fully to face you, his hand squeezing yours where it rested against his chest. His voice was soft but firm, grounding. “Breathe with me. Slowly, pomalý,” he murmured, his tone warm, almost coaxing. “I need you to try and name five things you can see.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, frustration flickering in your chest as you stared at him, willing him to drop the exercise. But his steady gaze told you he wouldn’t budge. Reluctantly, you glanced around.

“Um… a broken handle,” you muttered, rolling your eyes, though your voice betrayed your unease. “Uh… my shoes,” you added, but the words wavered, cracking like brittle glass.

Viktor’s hand shifted to pull you closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours. His breath, soft and warm, fanned across your face, calming one part of you, while unnerving the other. “Very good,” he said quietly. “Three more things. Anything you can see,” he encouraged, a faint smile lighting his features, his amber eyes bright with reassurance.

A strange lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down and tried again. “Your buttons… your hands… your freckles,” you blurted out quickly, the words tumbling over each other before you could stop them. It wasn’t until the words were out that you realised everything you’d named had been Viktor.

He let out a quiet sweet laugh, his chest moving against your hand. “Very good,” he said again, his voice laced with amusement. “Now—four things you can touch.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, making your heart stutter.

You inhaled shakily, closing your eyes to concentrate. “Wood… uh, the metal,” you began, though your throat tightened as you spoke.

“Good,” Viktor said soothingly. “Two more. Don’t overthink it—anything you can touch, no matter how small.”

You hesitated for a moment, then exhaled a resigned sigh. “Your hair… and your hand,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Heat crept up your cheeks, and you silently prayed you could blame it on the anxiety instead of… well, him.

Viktor’s smile softened, a hint of understanding dancing in his expression. “Very good,” he said simply, his hand steady in yours.

“Now—three things you can hear. Take your time,” he added, lowering his voice, the soft click of his tongue echoing faintly in the confined space.

You glanced up, meeting his gaze, and felt your chest tighten for a different reason entirely. “The metal cracking,” you said after a moment, your voice strained as you took a shallow breath. “My heavy breathing… and your voice.”

“You’re doing so well,” Viktor murmured, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles along your skin. “Two things you can smell,” he continued, his voice dipping lower as he shifted ever so slightly closer, the space between you shrinking. His nose nearly brushed yours, and you felt your lungs hitch, though now it had little to do with the cramped elevator.

“Oil… and parchment,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyes fluttered shut.

There was a faint noise from Viktor—a soft clearing of his throat—and you felt warmth bloom across his cheeks, his flustered reaction oddly comforting. At least you weren’t the only one affected by the closeness.

He leaned in just a fraction more, his cheek brushing against yours, the soft skin of his jaw teasing under your ear. His heartbeat was rapid under your intertwined hands, the rhythm betraying his otherwise steady demeanour. “Last one,” he murmured, his breath brushing your earlobe. “One thing you can taste?”

Your eyelids cracked open, your gaze falling on the column of his neck, mere inches away. For a heartbeat, time froze. Before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed your lips to his skin and whispered, “You.”

Viktor exhaled sharply, the sound trembling as it escaped. Without breaking position, he propped his cane against the wall and brought his hand to your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. You leaned into his palm, a quiet hum slipping from your lips.

His face hovered close to yours, his breath mingling with your own as he murmured, “Now I find myself in need of calming some anxiety.”

“Well, why don’t you name five things you can see, then?” Your voice slipped back into a teasing lilt; the tiny space of the elevator forgotten, replaced by the infinitely smaller space shared between the two of you.

“Hmm,” he mused, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Your ear,” he murmured before placing a soft, lingering kiss on your earlobe. “Your neck,” he added, brushing his lips gently against it. “Your eyes,” came next, accompanied by a featherlight peck on your brow. “Your nose,” he whispered, dropping another kiss just above its bridge. His tone deepened as he concluded, “And your chin.” He placed the final kiss there, smiling as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Very well,” you breathed, the places his lips had touched burning and tingling with an intensity that left you dizzy. “Now, four things you can touch, was it?”

“Your skin,” he replied immediately, taking a deep breath as his hands framed your cheeks, his thumbs brushing your jaw. “Your neck,” he chuckled softly, letting his palms glide down the sides of your throat, the light pressure sending a shiver down your spine. “Your collarbones,” he added, his thumbs pressing firmly against the delicate ridge, “and your shoulders.” His hands lingered there, warm and steady.

“You’re doing so well, Viktor,” you teased lightly, your eyes fluttering shut as you focused on his touch. “Next, three things you can hear.”

“Your voice,” he said, his thumb brushing against your lower lip, the faint scrape of his nail sending a ripple of heat through you. “Your breath,” he added, his gaze locking with yours, quiet intensity simmering in his amber eyes. After a brief hesitation, his hand moved to rest over your sternum. “And your heart. A very loud little thing,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower.

“We’re almost done,” you whispered, your breath hitching as he pulled you closer, his hands firm at your waist. “Two things you can smell.”

Viktor’s arms caged you in as he leaned in, his face burying in the crook of your neck. His voice rasped, “Your hair… and your skin. My favourite smells.” He inhaled deeply, his breath ghosting across your neck, his lips brushing faintly against your tendon. You felt his nose press against your skin as he trailed his open mouth along your neck, leaving a path of heat in its wake.

You swallowed hard, your body bracing for the last part. “A thing you can taste?” Your voice was quiet, barely audible.

“You, hopefully,” Viktor murmured, cupping your face gently as his lips brushed yours, tentative at first. His mouth was warm, tasting faintly of green tea, and when you glanced up, you noticed his ears were flushed red, his cheeks dusted a deep pink.

One of your hands found its way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair, while the other settled on his hip, where his vest shifted to reveal a sliver of skin beneath. At your touch, Viktor groaned softly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips as he tilted his head and let his tongue glide across your upper lip.

Your brows furrowed briefly, your eyes fluttering closed as you parted your lips to let him deepen the kiss. His hands slid from your cheeks to cradle your waist, one slipping up your back to press against your shoulder blades, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

His weight leaned into you, his breath filling your lungs with warmth, and a soft moan escaped your lips. Viktor echoed the sound, his chest vibrating with it, and the sensation rippled through you, your heart fluttering wildly against his. Your lips felt swollen under his, your fingers tugging at his hair to keep him anchored against you.

He obliged, pressing into you further as he guided you back a step until your back met the cold wood of the elevator wall. His lips left yours to travel down your neck, the heat of his mouth searing into your skin as he pressed soft, insistent kisses. He sucked gently at the base of your neck, pulling a startled giggle from you, and when he seemed satisfied with the mark he left, he dragged his tongue flat against the spot before returning to your mouth.

The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, his lips moving with an intensity that left you dizzy. Yet, even in his eagerness, Viktor’s touch remained steady, his hold on you firm but reverent, as though you were something precious to him. When you finally felt yourself running out of breath, Viktor pulled back just enough, a translucent string of saliva still connecting your mouths.

“So… um…” you whispered, your breath shallow and quick. “I take it you like your present?”

Viktor brushed his nose gently against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he nodded eagerly. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice low and hushed, “yes, very beneficial... very good gift. Possibly the best one anyone's ever given me.”

You hummed contentedly, settling yourself more comfortably in Viktor's arms, your head resting against his chest. The warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart, was enough to make you forget the rest of the world. But as the seconds passed and the kiss-induced haze begun to clear, reality seeped back in. You tilted your head up, suddenly aware of your position—still trapped in the elevator.

"So... how long do you think we're going to be stuck here?" you asked, the playful hint still lingering in your voice.

Viktor's lips twitch into a small smile, his hands gently stroking your back as he leaned closer. "Well, how long would you like to be stuck here?" he teased, his eyes glinting mischievously.

You blinked, confused for a moment. "What do you mean? You know how to fix it?"

His smile widened, and there was a slight glint of guilt in his eyes. "Well, I'm an engineer after all," he said, his tone almost sheepish. "I knew the minute it broke."

"Viktor!" you exclaimed in mock offense, lightly batting his chest with your hand. "You knew the whole time?" He chuckled softly, his gaze softening as he looked down at you, clearly amused. "What can I say? I like a little... suspense."

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bitchimasnake-sss · 9 months ago

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Sleep nonnie again. Is it okay if I go by 🦊🌲 its easier.

Anyways I think it would be a funny scenario if you suggest to the op boys to keep their hands warm by putting them between your thighs. I know some boys would just get a heart attack if you suggest that and get a cute blush

say whAT NOW?? NONNIE HELLO AND WELCOME BACK!! (dm me so that we can be friends ur fic ideas are so out of pocket i love it); also, gonna add ace cause i see many ace thirsties out there ;)

let me warm you up ft. the monster trio//ace!

luffy:

💗when he agreed to this, he didn't know just what kind of uncharted territory he was entering. he was simply not prepared. you had given him such a soft smile, taking his hands into yours as gingerly, "luff, are you cold?" he had nodded a mindless yes because you were crossing a terribly cold patch of the sea and his hands were freezing. but then held his hand a bit tighter and whispered, "i can warm them up for you. if you like?" he was too drunk on the idea to see the mischievous glint in your eyes and the way you spurred him on with your honey-like voice.

💗so now, he sat in front of you, eyes blown wide and lips trembling as his hands rested between your plush thighs. you had squeezed your thighs shut around his restless hands, claiming that it'll get him warm in little to no time. but god, this was hard (much like something else) and he was trying his best to keep his fingers still and not do anything hasty, like digging it into your soft flesh and relishing in the way your body molded to his touches. or by trailing his hand a bit upwards and seeing the way you react. 💗"luffy??" you called out and captain shook his head as he crawled out of that daze like state, "y-yeah?" "you okay?" you mumbled, voice far too gentle. you fucking minx. "you seem like you're losing your mind." good catch! because he was. luffy abruptly pulled his hands backwards lest he do something that truly made him lose his sanity. he scrambled off of your bed, heading out the door into the chilly deck in long, skitterish steps. "where ya going?" you called after him but he rushed out, yelling after himself, "JUST GONNA WARM UP WITH USSOP INSTEAD BYE" did ussop have better thighs than you? you may never know.

zoro:

💚zoro was very stupid, very. he was not the smartest tool in the shed when it came to love or crushes or dating or cooking food or social cues or emotional intelligence or— i should stop before this turns into zoro slander [i promise i love him]. but now, the bounty hunter sat with his face flushed and hands tucked between your soft, malleable thighs. he was smarter than this, truly. he knew that when you suggested that he looked cold and you can warm him up, he was supposed to say "fuck no, get out." because having a crush on you was embarrassing enough on it's own. but you had given him such a gut-wrenching, pleading look. your eyes saddened and your lips fell into a pout and oh god, what was he, if not the man who would let you ruin him? 💚ever since he was a child, zoro had always known that he would die a noble swordman's death. he would die fighting, brave, courageous, unafraid. now, he was sure he'd die from the way you squirmed and pressed your thighs shut. "quit movin'" he grunted, looking away from you as your stared at him. but you tucked your arms against your chest and the soft swell of your tits fell forward towards him so deliciously. he must have lost focus and let his gaze travel against your body cause you coughed, drawing his attention back to your face, "quit starin'." he pulled his hands back, ears going red and heart faltering. he should really stop before he gave into the temptations and pinned you to the mattress to— his voice pitched up, "i-i'm going back to my room, bye." "zoro?!" you called after the swordsman as he ran out, "BUT THIS IS YOUR ROOM, WHERE ARE YOU GOING??" [spoiler: he went to chopper and crushed herbs to make medicine. he wanted to get rid of some of that tension but he failed. because he put the pressure too hard and the china dish in which he was crushing the leafy herbs broke, and now chopper was hitting him square in his head, talking about how important it was to be precise in medicine and how zoro will never make a good doctor. "stop hitting me— OW" "what KIND OF A DOCTOR ARE YOU?" "IM A SWORDSMAN!" "YEAH CAUSE YOU CANNOT BE A DOCTOR!"]

sanji:

💙breath in, breathe out. breathe in, breathe out. breath in, breath out— "sanji?" you asked, a tinge of worry at his almost fainting figure, "are you okay?!" "my love, darling, sugar pie—" the man caught his tongue between his teeth, trying to stop his head from spinning. the floor seem to sway under him, the lights seemed too bright. was he flying or was it the blood rush?? "what did you just ask me?" you look down at the kitchen floor, mumbling with a bashful smile, "if your hands are cold...i can warm them up." his heart quickened as did his fingers. he chopped the bell pepper so hastily that you were sure you saw sparks flying. "and how would you do that?" "you can keep them between my thighs, if you like?" you looked up, "OH MY GOD SANJI YOUR NOSE—" 💙i hate to cut the story short but sanji 100% fainted and you had to catch him before he fell face-forward into the pot with boiling water on the stove. sorry, he gets no bitches :( but you did look after him on the bedside and let him eventually touch your thighs so... idk, a win is a win!!! ["so, is he like dead?" zoro had asked, uninterested, as you hauled the cook's figure outside the kitchen. you were dragging him to his room as the rest of the crew trailed you. they had heard your shriek and came spilling into the kitchen to see what the fuss was about. "did you give him a hug?" nami asked, amused. "hug's too much." ussop snickered, "she probably smiled at him." sanji whipped his head dangerously to glare at them, "i can hear you. and i will be poisoning your food." he looked back at you, "oh don't you worry, im still fainted." he closed his eyes, letting his forehead fall on your shoulder. you smiled to yourself, making a note to warm him up later]

ace:

🧡truthfully, how do you ask a man made of literal fire if you can "warm him up"??? you must have not thought you plan through because you had stood in his room a bit tipsy, locked the door behind you and asked a boy [who was always shirtless cause he was so warm] that question. "huh?" ace's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. he stood up to walk towards you, "what is that about? you wanna warm me up?" "NO!" you bit your cheek when you realized the implications of your words, "i was joking, obviously." "awh, i do love when you humor me." he quipped, "it's kinda cute." "shut up." you glared at him but he gave you an earnest smile back, "if you're cold, you could have just told me." he set his finger ablaze, acting suave, "see, i can warm you up." "you wanna set me on fire?" you seethed. "no?!" "why did you light your fingers on fire?!" "YOU ASKED A MAN MADE OF FIRE IF YOU CAN WARM HIM UP? DONT ASK ME QUESTIONS?!" "i'm drunk" you mumbled. after a beat you looked down at the floor, "and... i'm kinda cold." portagas d. ace just smiled, shrugging in mock nonchalance, "we can cuddle, if you like. i've been told i'm a pretty great heater." you laughed, "hah, hotshot." ace gave you a wicked grin, "how drunk are you?" "not nearly enough." just saying, portagas d ace was better than just a "pretty great heater." he was a pretty great fu-

a/n: i love writing stupid things so much. it makes me so happy because i'm a stupid little girl giggling and typing on her laptop when she should be doing work. tagging the ever lovelies: @bokutosbiceps (resident luffy enjoyer) and @help-i-lost-my-sock (resident ace enjoyer). if you wanna be added to the tag list, please let me know (//tell me your preferences and i'd tag you in those fics)!

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 11 months ago

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If you allow yandere, then Can I request a yandere! Catnap x Creator! reader?

Time are in the middle of hour of joy, and Reader are in playcare, catnap are chasing reader and reader are desperately running away from him. and reader is creator or the person who came up with the design of Catnap.

'God..why did this happen? Why did this have to happen?? God, please make this stop...tell me I'm dreaming..'

Sadly, this was no dream.

The screams, the bloodshed, the senseless slaughter..

All of it was very much real, and you were right in the middle of it all, currently hiding within Playcare. You didn't even know what was going on exactly or why.

Everywhere you looked, there was another dead body on the ground, in the grass, and splayed across the stairs...all of whom were either your coworkers, scientists you've never seen before, security personnel, or innocent visitors.

Many of them had similar wounds--claw marks from none other than Catnap himself, who you saw stalking around the premises, looking for survivors.

But why would he do something like this?

How was he even capable of such violence?

It was supposed to be a normal and simple day:

You clocked in, checked up on Catnap's well-being after he put the children to sleep, and then left to attend to other matters. It was a mundane routine, but you were always excited to get up and go to work because of him.

However, you were running a tad bit late today and feared you'd get an earful from your supervisor considering the company's strict tardiness rules.

But on your way to Playcare, the emergency sirens resounded all throughout the facility. You had no idea what was going on, although the distant screams made you utterly terrified and had you running straight to that area, praying you'll find shelter from whatever danger lurked nearby...

Instead you ran straight into the scene of a massacre.

All orchestrated by Catnap and several mini-Smiling Critters who got loose, attacking and devouring whatever poor human got caught in their sights.

You had to throw on your gas mask quickly to avoid inhaling the red smoke. There was very little lingering in the air still, but judging from the corpses who still wore them or had them torn from their heads, they must have been prepared for this massive containment breach.

Even so, none were spared.

Catnap was probably smart enough to know the purpose of those masks. And he put them all to sleep. Permanently.

Yet somehow he hasn't spotted you yet, and you hoped to every god above that he didn't.

This pained you especially as you were on the designer team for the Smiling Critters. You actually made the first drawing of Catnap and presented it to your boss, who approved it right away...but only after making a few minor major adjustments.

Who knew something so sweet and innocent would turn into something so deadly?

He was supposed to be nothing more than a cartoon character brought to life and a plush toy (that unfortunately got recalled). How the higher-ups managed to achieve that with him and the other critters without your team ever knowing...you had no idea, but you were thrilled by the results.

You adored Catnap, and he was well aware that you created the idea of him--almost worshipping you, in a sense, and being the only human he'd properly communicate with.

In turn, you've communicated with him healthily, treating him like a person instead of an experiment. He did mutter strange things sometimes and talked about freedom, but you never probed him on that nor reminded him that he was a prisoner here.

No matter how true it may be, no toy deserves to be told that.

Now that you were here, hiding from the very thing you had loved and created, you weren't sure if you were even looking at Catnap anymore.

It may look like him, but it's not him.

Catnap is not a killing machine.

Whatever those scientists did turned him into a monster. A creature they failed to keep in check.

And he snapped, slaughtering many of your acquaintances and innocent families interested in the adoption program.

He kept muttering about an "Hour of Joy", which you've heard him speak of in the past. But you've always assumed he was talking about an upcoming birthday party or event within the Playhouse the other Smiling Critters were planning..

Not a giant bloodbath that painted the floors and walls of Playcare red.

You ducked behind a trash canister as you watched Catnap creep towards a survivor, who was also wearing a gas mask and breathing hard. Seeing that their leg was torn off at the knee, you knew there was no hope of helping them.

The moment they were spotted, their fate was sealed.

They were his prey now.

You couldn't look away as he paused for a moment, before reaching forward with a quick swipe, tearing off their mask. His claws left big gash marks across their face as they wailed in pain, but it didn't last long as he quickly pounced and slashed their throat next--leaving them to choke on their own blood.

Seconds later, their body stilled, becoming just like the rest of those surrounding them.

You made the horrible mistake of exhaling a shaky breath, the mask amplifying the noise.

That's when Catnap whipped his head towards you, those white dots growing larger.

"YOU. COME HERE."

Realizing your cover's blown, you jumped up and knocked the trash canister over, hoping it'd distract him long enough for you to race inside Home Sweet Home. But the diversion barely did anything, as you heard the loud stomps of the purple beast practically on your heels.

He lunged at the door just as you turned and slammed it shut, locking it and trying to shove a chair beneath the knobs. There was loud knocking on the other side, but eventually it stopped.

As soon as it did, you rushed into one of the many bunkbed rooms, finding it strangely devoid of children, scientists, and caretakers.

What happened to them all?

Did they evacuate safely?

Did they know about this ahead of time?

You had no idea, and quite frankly..now wasn't the time to find out. Rather, it was time for you to think of a way out of this wretched place, but you feared it won't be easy.

You knew the orphanage's interior like the back of your hand--the problem were the little Smiling Critters that you could currently hear pitter-pattering down the halls.

He put them here on patrol.

If any of them saw you..surely they'd alert him.

On the brightside, there were no traces of red smoke to be found, so you briefly took the mask off to give yourself a breather. Sweat poured down your face, and your throat ran dry; you could practically feel your own heartbeat pounding within it as you tried to figure out your next move.

Maybe if you wait here long enough, he'll get bored and leave...

Or maybe he'll-

All of the sudden, a critter leapt out from underneath one of the covers and tried latching onto your head. You yelled out as it screeched right beside your ear, attempting to bite into it and get a taste of your flesh, but you managed to throw it down to the ground and keep it crushed under your shoe.

You grabbed a nearby metal rod from a destroyed bedframe, pointing the sharp end at its throat..

Only to realize it was a Catnap, who looked perfectly intact aside from a little dirt caking its plush body.

Both of you had a bit of a staring contest.

And in the end....you couldn't find it in you to kill it.

All you could do was stare down at the creature, tears in your eyes as you watched it wriggle and snarl, pawing at your foot. It was barely putting up a fight now, which made you realize it probably didn't want to attack you.

Rather..it seemed hungry.

But why would it be hungry for human flesh?

Was Catnap the same way? Was he hungry or just killing for sport?

More importantly...why was he killing at all and tormenting you like this?

Maybe he was angry about his toyline being recalled, or the unfair treatment he's gotten here by the scientists. Or perhaps he felt outcasted by the other Smiling Critters.

You didn't know if any of them were still around, but for all you knew they could be just like him.

Hungry, rampaging monsters.

The ringing phone snapped you back to reality, and you cautiously took your foot off the tiny Catnap. It got up and skittered away into a nearby hole in the rotting wall, apparently having lost its appetite.

You quickly answered the machine, praying it was somebody upstairs trying to get in contact with you. Maybe a survivor who knew how to get you out. Before you gave them a chance to speak, you went first, being so scared, frustrated, and overwhelmed by everything that's happened thus far.

You just wanted this nightmare to be over already.

"Thank god. What the hell is going on?! It's like a fucking slaughterhouse down here-"

"It's a celebration. The Hour of Joy, little mouse."

Your blood ran cold, realizing who that voice belonged to. 'The Toys...they know how to use these phones..?'

"C-Catnap?"

"[Y/n]..why did you run away?" He whispered hoarsely. "I didn't know it was you."

"Wha...b-because you were killing people!" Your voice grew shaky, confused as to why he sounded so calm. "And you would've killed me, too!!"

"No."

"...what?"

"You are special to me, little mouse. You breathed life into me. You must be kept safe, for you are pure..unlike these wretched souls." He murmured. "They would have taken you away from me. Forever. I do not want that."

"Y-You're..not making any sense, Catnap." You struggled to wrap your head around his words. "If someone told you I'm quitting or getting fired or transferring..they lied. Nobody's taking me away from you..is that what you're afraid of? Is that why you did all of this?"

"I did it..for the Prototype...and for you. He told me I could spare one soul when our Hour of Joy is up."

Your stomach sank, but before you could ask him more about this "prototype", he cut you off.

"Shhhhhhhh. No more talking. No more running. Sleep, little mouse."

By the time you realized red smoke was starting to fill up the room, it was already far too late as you began coughing. You dropped the phone and frantically searched for your gas mask.

No way in hell were you going to fall asleep now.

Especially not after what he told you.

You'd rather die with the rest of them.

Suddenly you heard a small crunching noise and looked down, seeing that you stepped on one of the lenses. 'Shit..it must've broke off during my scuffle with Mini-Catnap...'

You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, and you instead tried grabbing something to stuff beneath the door to stop more smoke from seeping in. No matter what, you HAD to stay awake, you told yourself.

And yet..

That stained worn mattress with the blanket you half-dragged off suddenly looked quite comfortable.

You collapsed onto it, feeling exhaustion overwhelm you immediately despite the rest of your body's attempts to fight it--knowing your fate was ultimately left in his hands should you fail.

But you were so, so tired..

You couldn't help closing your eyes. Just for a little while.

Right before losing consciousness, however, you noticed that the door was now open, and through the red fog appeared Catnap himself.

Except he didn't look like a monster made of skin and bones, instead being a little bipedal purple cat who seemingly jumped straight out of the cartoon show.

His fur wasn't tainted with a single spec of blood or dirt.

He was perfect.

Your perfect creation.

All he did was smile, and you fell asleep smiling back.

#clanask #anonymous #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime catnap #catnap #smiling critters #angst #yandere #tw yandere #tw death mention

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oh-theseus · 9 months ago

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bloody stones

pairing: astarion x gn!reader, astarion x gn!tav summary: you nearly die and astarion still can't bring himself to be honest with you. word count: 4,018 a/n: first time trying to write for astarion (or just bg3 in general) & i'm not sure it came out how i wanted it to, BUT i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless <333 i kind of wrote this to be like a background for a future thing i think... but no promises bc i am anything if not inconsistent 😭

warnings: descriptions of blood & injury, canon typical violence, mentions of past abuse. lmk if i should add more!

You were fairly certain you had never been as close to death as you currently were. Even while trapped inside of the nautiloid ship, you had felt like you would make it out. Granted, that might have been because you thought Lae’zel was going to kill you if you died, but still. Even then, on a ship that was actively crashing from hundreds of miles in the sky, you’d thought you’d make it out.

That hope is nowhere to be found as Z’rell drives her ax into your lower leg. You have been injured in battle dozens of times but this is the first time your injury has ever made you fall to your knees within three seconds of receiving it. There is next to no pain at first, but then she pulls her ax from your leg, and it feels like… well, like your leg was just split open.

Blood gushes down your leg, and you can’t stand up again, but by the grace of one of the gods, you manage to block her next attack. Her ax meets the blade of your sword with a loud clang that you can hear over the sounds of other blades clashing and spells being conjured. Anger blazes in Z’rell’s eyes and she surges her weapon further with as much strength as she can muster. You met her with the same effort, but you’re losing so much blood so fast. You’re not nearly as strong as she is.

A noise that is somewhere between a cry and a grunt falls from your lips. But you are certain this is it. You’ll die here. In Moonrise Towers with a parasite wiggling within your skull. You’ll die in a blighted land and your friends will go on without you. If they survive, that is. You can feel your arms wobbling, about to give out. Her ax will come down on your neck and you’ll sit here choking on your own blood until you die. Maybe she’ll dig the Illithid parasite out of your skull and consume it just as your Dream Guardian had urged you to do so many times before. You doubt Z’rell would have qualms about it though - if fact, she might just keep you alive while she digs around in your skull. She seems like the type.

But then there’s an arrow embedded in Z’rell’s neck. And now she’s the one choking on her blood, her weapon faltering. You don’t have time to be grateful, not when she’s determined to make a killing blow and take you out with her. It takes all of your effort to roll out of the way, her ax bouncing off of the bloody stone floor where your head had just been seconds previous. Your head is spinning from the movement, and your leg feels like dead weight, but you manage to draw your dagger and shove it deep into the disciples stomach.

Z’rell falls to her knees. Then forward, onto her face. Dead.

Hands are underneath your arms, dragging you away from the rest of the battle before you even have time to process that you aren’t dead. You have half a mind to kick and struggle, but when you try to push the hands off of your body you stop your fighting. You know these hands.

“Astarion,” you choke out, tilting your head upwards to see him above you, carefully dragging you behind a turned over table. You can feel a trail of blood being left by your leg; for a moment you wonder if Astarion had smelled your blood before he saw it.

“Don’t talk,” Astarion scolds, propping your back against the table. Blood is splattered on his face and armor, his bow slung across his body. Your eyes shift to his quiver where only three arrows remain. If you weren’t so busy trying not to pass out from blood loss, you might have told him you were right when you’d told him this morning he needed more arrows. But you can hardly convince yourself to breathe, let alone make a joke.

Astarion’s face is twisted into an expression you don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear before. There is determination there as he examines your wound, cursing beneath his breath. There’s concern too. But something else dances in his crimson eyes that makes you tilt your head to the side curiously.

Fear.

Astarion is scared.

“How bad?” you force out, leaning your head back against the overturned table. Your eyes lock on the ceiling of Moonrise. This had been a temple once. Briefly, as you fight to keep your eyes open, you decide that it might’ve even been beautiful.

“Not terrible,” Astarion lies. You know it’s a lie, and he knows you know that, too. You might’ve looked at him, tried to assure him you would be okay if you believed it. But you’re not quite sure that you do, so you keep your eyes on the ceiling, listening to the sounds of battle slowing down behind you.

Astarion stops talking after that. Your silence and sudden interest in the ceiling is enough to make Astarion certain his heart will start beating again just so it can race in fear. But his hands are quick in grabbing a healing potion from your belt and helping you get it down. They’re faster still as he shuffles through his discarded back for cloth to press to your wound.

Blood quickly soaks the white cloth and Astarion’s hands, but the vampire doesn’t mind. He can’t be bothered to think about how potent your blood smells, how easy it would be to just take some for himself. He is certain that if you’d been bleeding out in front of him like this when you first met that he would’ve taken every last drop of blood that he could get. But right now… Astarion wasn’t sure he had ever wanted to puke at the sight of blood more.

Astarion isn’t sure he’s ever felt a panic quite like this before. Perhaps when he’d woken up in a coffin six feet underground. Maybe when he’d realized he was a slave to an evil vampire lord. But other than that? No, Astarion had never felt fear like this. Fear that clutches him by the throat, makes his hands start to tremble. Fear that won’t let him focus on the battle coming to end. Not even to see if his companions - his friends - had survived. All he knows is you, your blood coating his hands, and terror coursing through his entire being.

He’s so consumed by his fear that he doesn’t notice you’ve finally passed out. Nor does he hear Shadowheart approach until she’s shoving Astarion away from you, her hands immediately coming to rest above the gash in your leg. She starts to mutter the words of a healing spell and even Astarion can tell that she’s completely spent, that she’s using her last bit of magic and strength to coax your skin back together.

“Wake them up,” Shadowheart hisses, her eyes still locked on your leg. “Wake them up now, Astarion!”

The near crack in Shadowheart’s voice stirs Astarion from his fear driven stupor. His hands are on your face immediately, your name falling from his lips once, twice. His fingers find the pulsepoint at your neck, and Astarion doesn’t dare to move until he feels it. It’s faint, but it is there.

But your eyes are still closed, and no matter how hard Astarion tries, you will not wake up. You’re still breathing, but it’s hard and labored, and Astarion is certain that if he looks away from you for even a moment you will be gone for good. He didn’t know much, but Astarion did know that a world without you was not one he was willing to return to.

By the grace of… something, Shadowheart manages to mend the skin of your leg. She’s exhausted and can hardly stand by the time she’s finished, but she does it. You’re still out cold, and Astarion is not sure whether to start crying or to find something else to kill to distract himself.

“It’s the blood loss,” Wyll assures him quickly, hauling Shadowheart up from the ground with her arm over his shoulders. “They’ll live. But we need to move them. Now.”

The Blade of Frontiers does not waste another moment, leading Shadowheart across the main floor of Moonrise Towers, down into the basement. Astarion doesn’t hesitate to do the same with you, his blood coated hands holding you so, so carefully.

When you wake up, you’re pretty sure you’re dead. You didn’t know what you expected the afterlife to hold, but it certainly was not a stone floor and the smell of mildew. For a second you think that maybe you could be somewhere else (somewhere where you are not dead) but you can’t think very clearly right now. All you can feel is a distant throbbing in your head and a bone deep cold. Your leg… You could feel your leg. That was good, considering the last thing you could recall before passing out was taking Z’rell’s ax to your shin.

And Astarion. You remembered his familiar grip, pulling you to safety. You remembered his crimson eyes, the fear you’d seen in them. But that was it. You didn’t remember passing out or how light you had felt while blood seeped from your leg. For a moment, it troubles you that you can’t remember. But if this was truly your eternal resting place… maybe it was a good thing you couldn’t remember. You’re not sure that it's really something you’d enjoy dwelling on for the rest of eternity.

You’re not sure how long you lay there. You don’t move your body, and your eyes keep falling closed every once in a while. You feel lightheaded, yet impossibly heavy at the same time. All you can bring yourself to do is stare at the ceiling. Maybe there is a god here, because you’re gifted the memory of doing the very same thing before passing out the first time. And this ceiling looks remarkably similar to the one in Moonrise Towers.

That voice, too. The one you can hear in the distance - almost as if they are shouting for you from the other room. The voice is so similar to…

“Astarion?” You breathe out, your eyes finally shifting away from the ceiling. They fall instead to the person beside you. At first, they’re just a jumble of white curls and red eyes. But then your vision clears and so does your hearing. Astarion’s repeating your name, asking if you can hear him. All you can do is nod. At least you know you’re alive, though. Or at least, you’re pretty sure. Your brain is still foggy. The lingering effects of blood loss? Or perhaps one too many healing potions?

You somehow manage to force yourself into a sitting position. Astarion’s right hand splays against your lower back carefully, his left one hovering in front of your body to catch you if you fold in on yourself. When you straighten your back, the room spins so fast you’re certain that Gale’s cast a spell to make it do that. Your hands grip Astarion’s left arm to keep from falling over.

“Easy, easy,” Astarion says softly. You’re not certain of many things right now, but you are certain that you have never heard Astarion use that tone before. One so gentle, so soft. Even when he’d told you of Cazador and the scar that tainted his back.

“I’m okay,” you reply after a moment. Your hands still grip his arm but neither of you seem to mind it. “I’m okay, promise.” The sentiment is just as much for yourself as it is for Astarion.

Astarion only hums in reply. His eyes are flickering over your face. Like he’s taking you in for the first time - or perhaps even the last. His hand on your back is a welcome weight and the feeling of his forearm under your fingertips keeps you grounded. This is real. You are here.

You are alive.

“Holy shit,” you curse. Your eyes widen and your breathing slowly begins to pick up. You’d been so close to dying, to bleeding out in a cursed land so far from home. You’d never thought you’d be one to care so much about something like this, but the fear that you could’ve died is gripping you by the throat, pinning you beneath its clutches.

Astarion notices this. Of course he notices. He notices everything about you. The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. How you shift your weight from foot to foot when unsure about something. How your hands flex when you’re growing frustrated. So of course he notices your breathing picking up, your grip on his arms becoming just slightly tighter.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. You need to breathe, love.” He says your name softly then, still in that foreign tone of his. The hand at your back comes up to cup your face, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone. “Breathe,” his voice is firmer now, one you’re used to from him. Maybe it’s that tone of his that compels you to listen. Maybe it’s his hand cradling your face like you might slip away as soon as he lets you go. Or maybe it’s the fact that his eyes are still swimming with that fear you’d seen before you lost consciousness.

It takes a few moments, but you manage to even out your breathing. Those invisible claws at your neck retract, fading into the shadows of the room. The basement of Moonrise Towers, you realize. That was why the ceiling looked similar to the one upstairs.

Everything returns to you then. The battle, Ketheric, the ax, the amount of blood you’d lost. Astarion’s arrow in Z’rell’s neck.

“You killed her,” you say, as if Astarion had not killed dozens of other enemies during your travels. “Nice aim.”

Astarion visibly deflates as soon as the joke leaves your lips. Your lips quirk into the smallest of smiles despite yourself. But then Astarion retracts his hand from your face, and that small smile falls away slowly. Astarion pretends not to notice it. You pretend like you don’t either; your attention shifts to your right leg, studying the skin exposed by the large tear in your pants. You make a mental note to find new pants.

Your hand trembles slightly as you remove it from Astarion’s arm and bring it down on your leg. Gingerly, you pull the ruined fabric back more and take in where the wound should have been. Instead, your skin looks near perfect. There is a thin scar from where Shadowheart’s healing had knitted the skin together but that is the only indication that your flesh had been torn apart that very same day.

“For a woman who worshiped the Lady of Loss, Shadowheart was rather good at keeping me - us from losing you.”

Your eyes shift to Astarion’s at his slip. You try to not let your face fall when he pulls his arm from beneath your other hand. He leans back in the chair that matches the table you’re laid out on top of, crossing his arms and screwing his face into that expression you’ve grown to recognize as a mask. A flash of hurt floods through you. Selfishly, you wonder how much more you will need to do to prove yourself before Astarion finally, finally trusts you.

“Shadowheart is a good healer,” you say instead of what you want to say. You want to comment on him being scared. You want to point out that he had literally saved your life. You want to tell him that that is not something you just do for someone you’re looking at with sheer indifference. “I think you’re the only one who doubts her.” Your own tone has changed. Despite the hurt in your heart, your tone is sharp.

“I do not doubt her, my dear. I don’t trust her. There is a difference,” Astarion replies with a wave of his hand. You don’t like this game. You hate this game. Why must he insist on playing it?

“Do you trust anyone, Astarion?”

If you were anyone else, Astarion would’ve had a quick retort. Or if you’d said it with anger in your voice. But you’re you and the question comes out with far less frustration than you had wanted it to. Instead, you sound sad. Hurt. And somehow, seeing you look like this is almost as bad as watching you bleed out. He predicts your next words before you say them, but he still winces at them all the same.

“Do you trust me?”

Your question hangs in the air between the two of you. Maybe it’s the lack of blood in your system that makes you say it. You never would have dared to ask something so vulnerable just a few feet from the rest of your companions normally. Maybe it’s the fact that you had almost died. Almost died with so many unsaid words swimming through your mind. Maybe that’s why you say it. Or maybe you’re just tired of not knowing what Astarion is truly thinking and feeling.

“You know I care for you,” Astarion replies after a moment. And you do know - how could you not when you’d seen his fear at the prospect of losing you with your own two eyes. How could you not know that he cared for you when he was so gentle every time he took your blood? How could you not know that he cared for you when he had sat beside you on sleepless nights?

But that was not what your question was.

“That’s not what I asked.” You intend to sound firm still. You fail, though, and you sound every bit as hurt and frustrated as you feel. “Why not?” Why didn’t he trust you? Or better, why did he not trust you enough? He trusted you enough to tell you about Cazador and what his former master had done to him. But he didn’t trust you enough to be honest about his emotions - especially his emotions towards you. Why? Why?

You watch as Astarion shifts in his seat. At first, you think he’s going to get up and walk away from you. Instead, he shifts forward, and his left hand finds yours. Your eyes fall to where your skin meets, they watch as Astarion holds your hand on top of his gently. His own attention is drawn to it, watching carefully as his other hand fidgets with your fingers.

“I thought you were going to die.”

His confession is soft, heartfelt. You might even be able to convince yourself he sounds like he might cry. But when he looks up to meet your eyes again, his crimson eyes are clear of tears. But there is pain there. Pain and torment and that fear.

“I thought you were going to die and I would… And I would have to live with -” He gestures to himself with his hand that had been fidgeting with your fingers. “This.”

Your eyebrows knit together at his words, but you say nothing. You had long since learned that when Astarion was on the verge of opening up, it was best to let him get the words out on his own. Pressuring him had never gotten you anywhere. Well, except for right now. Every other time it had been entirely fruitless.

“You have shown a kindness to me that I am unfamiliar with. With Cazador… His version of kindness was letting me eat instead of starving. But it always had a price. Always,” he can’t look at you anymore, instead looking intently at your hand in his. “Your kindness - I am learning - comes freely.”

“You are waiting for the other boot to drop,” You say, understanding what he is trying to tell you without directly saying it. When he nods, you swallow thickly. Words seem to fail you as you search desperately for the right thing to say. But there are no words that feel good enough.

Astarion also seems to be at a loss for words. Carefully, you place your hand not holding his under his chin and tilt his face upwards, so that your eyes meet once more. Your hand slides to cup his cheek, and your heart swells when you feel him press into your touch gently.

“I am not him.”

Astarion’s eyes close at your words. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything except sit there for a long moment. So long that you think he isn’t going to reply. But then he turns his head, and he kisses the palm of your hand. Then where your hand meets your wrist. Then the inside of your wrist. As he places the third kiss to your skin, you let your hand fall away and watch as he picks it up with his free hand.

He doesn’t say it, but you know he understands. He knows you are not Cazador. And you don’t say it, but he knows you understand. You know he is trying. And neither of you say it, but both of you see those three words swimming in each other’s eyes. But you both know they’re there.

“Thank you,” you say after a long minute. “For not letting me die. Not that I expected you to, but…”

But you knew he wouldn’t have saved you a few weeks ago.

“I mean it. Thank you.”

The fear in Astarion’s eyes finally melts away and that smirk of his falls onto his lips. But this was not his mask - no, this was his real joy. His real happiness at your not being dead and at being able to let a joke slip past his lips knowing you didn’t expect anything because of it.

“I can think of a few ways you could show that gratitude,” he says suggestively. A smile of your own spreads across your face, despite the color that floods it, too. Weakly, you shove his hands off of yours and roll your eyes at him. “You are welcome. I’ll save you a thousand times over if it means I get to see your smile once more.”

“Oh, don’t get soft on me now,” You say through your grin. But you’d like nothing more. A soft Astarion meant a healed one, a safe one. If that meant you were subjected to a few sappy lines here and there, you wouldn’t mind it.

“Hard to be soft with you around.”

“Astarion,” You hiss, realizing the joke you’ve walked yourself right into. For a second you debate getting off of the table and smacking him over the head, but when you shift your leg just slightly, that dizziness returns and has you gripping the edge of the table.

Astarion is on his feet within a moment, noticing the change in you as soon as it happens. His hand has returned to your back, steadying you as the room starts to spin again. With your head a little clearer now, you recognize the feeling as similar to what you feel when Astarion drinks from you. With how strongly you’re feeling it… you don’t want to think about how much blood you must have lost.

“Rest. Please,” Astarion says in that soft voice again. And truly, who are you to deny him when he’s being so gentle? You let him coax you onto the table, onto the soft pile of fabrics you hadn’t realized had been under your head until just now. You want to stay conscious, to talk to Astarion more, but as soon as you’ve settled back down, you realize just how tired you are.

When you stir hours later, you’re tucked into your bedroll within your tent. And Astarion is sitting not far from you, reading. You don’t say anything as sleep overtakes you again, but you’re pretty certain you could get used to waking up to the sight of Astarion.

And Astarion’s pretty certain he wouldn’t mind it either.

you can join my taglist by clicking here!!

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #x reader #gn!reader #shadowheart #wyll

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kaspurrcat · 4 months ago

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I'm super excited to share the art for my final bang of the @steddiebang2024 season "your eyes can be so cruel (just as i can be) a Labyrinth AU by @formosusiniquis. I am obsessed with this fic and I have so many ideas to that I want to draw for it that doubt it will be contained to this bang season. Anyways enough of my chit chat, check out the summary below as well as some fun detail shots!

Fic

When Eddie was sixteen, he wished away his baby brother. He survived dangers untold and hardships unnumbered and rescued Dustin from the castle at the heart of the Goblin City and the Prince who had answered Eddie's wish to steal him. Now it's sixteen years later and Eddie still feels like he's fighting hardships.

When he goes back to his childhood home, he discovers things might be more dire than he realized. The Goblin Prince hasn't forgotten him and now that war is on the horizon for the Labyrinth, he's being called to return to make good on the promises he made all those years ago.

If his power really is as strong as Prince Steven's, Eddie is going to have to learn how to tap into it to keep the Underground from crumbling under the weight of the attacking army. If his will is as great, he'll be able to do it without falling for the charms of the man who kidnaps children at the whims of bratty teenagers, regardless of their claims of betrothal. But as the fight gets nearer Eddie isn't sure how many of those old oaths he'll be able to swear this time. His power feels faltering, his kingdom weak, and he's sure that Steve holds a great deal of power over him. He's not sure he wants the last one to change.

#steddie #stranger things #fanart #steve harrington #st4 #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things fanart #robin buckley #cas draws #my art #steddiebang24 #Nancy wheeler

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ombiblombi · 2 months ago

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P.AI.nter is SUCH an interesting character to me... he's probably become one of my all time favorites, as I haven't fixated on a character this hard since since...TMC. It physically hurts to think about it in the best way possible-

That being said, I have SO MANY THOUGHTS to say about 'em... so I'm going to dump them here.

First and formost, it's so interesting that P.AI.nter has such a wide array of emotions when it comes to attacking and interacting with the Expendables. At first it's strange, like "WTF?? You're trying to kill me and you just yelled how I was boring, wdym you're sorry??" But... knowing his lore and backstory, it makes so much sense.

P.AI.nters creator was gunned down on accident by Urbanshade, which upon the discovery of P.AI.nter, then decided to trap him in a harddrive and make it mine whats essenically crypto at the Hadal Site- For years, it's stuck mining for the company unwillingly, unable to draw the lanscapes it loved. For fucks sake, P.AI.nter tried to FRY HIS CIRCUTS just to get out. He's desprate, miserable and lonely, and just wants to escape- Any way possible.

And so when Sebastian comes reeks his havoc on the site and finds it, P.AI.nter is incredibly trusting of him to get them both out. Maybe alittle too trusting, but whats he got left to loose? They've both been used by the company and want nothing more to leave, leave and never return. So when Sebastian connects it to the servers- to the Navi-Path & Turrets and tells him to stop the Expendables, P.AI.nter does.

However.

This is self preservation down here. P.AI.nter of course, is rightfully angry at times. I mean- The same company that killed it's creator before his very (nonexistant) eyes, trapped it down here, and even sucked the joy he has from creating art away is now actively getting in the way of the freedom he yearns for. But at the same time... this isn't something done that it entirely wants to be doing. Like I said. This is self preservation. And his actions, and even your deaths weigh heavy. Theres a voiceline, and its delievered so well- Of P.AI.nter pleading for the player to wake up and apologizing profusely if it kills you.

That line sparked this whole theory in the first place.

Your death, reminds it of his creator.

Isn't it ironic how it's now manning the very same weapon that killed the one who brought him sentience in the first place? That he's now the one at fault? Thats gotta be on the back of his mind each and every time it leads an expendable to their demise.

This isn't personal.

He doesn't know who you are.

But it still hurts.

It really annoys me when people in the community call P.AI.nter two faced, or god forbid, do the shitty thing of saying in a derogatory manner that he's bipolar or such as a "joke". Thats just disrespectful to both the character and folks who do have it. It's just plain rude. People do something similar for Sebastian, saying that oh, they're ruining his character by making him mean and snarky and whatnot. I know this happens in every fandom out there, and that this rant is fruitless, but... people need to understand that characters like P.AI.nter and Sebastian have reasons behind their actions and have existing trauma that if you take a moment to look at, you can go "Wowie! Thats a complex character! Everything makes so much sense now, like a puzzle peice I can see traces of in their character in almost every aspect!" Rather than doing awful things like I brought up at the start. But... I digress. I know this rant wont change much so. I hope y'all enjoyed my mini character analysis

Anyway this video has all of P.AI.nters voicelines if 'ya wanna go have a listen after this :] also I got plenty more thoughts about P.AI.nter and Sebastian if anyone wants to know!

youtube

#pressure #roblox pressure #p.ai.nter pressure #P.ai.nter #Rant #character analysis #sebastian solace #<- ? I guess because the rant mentioned him lol but.#Youtube

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 10 months ago

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Imagine Kaido sees potential in you and drafting you into his crew

You and your comrades: [defending your home by successfully holding off the Tobiroppo]

Kaido: hmm [evaluating your fighting techniques from a distance]

King: They're taking too long to get this over with. [Draws his sword and advances on your homes]

You: [watches King taking down your friends one by one using his fire, ] I need to do something, [looks around to see only a small fishpond in a neighbor's yard]

King: [sends a blast of flames in the direction of someone's home, only to stumble back in surprise when you leap through his flames, landing on his chest, with your weapons poised to gouge out his eyes.]

Kaido: King, stop, I want that one alive.

King: [grabs you, and holds you at arm's length, stunned you're alive,] Why the hell would you want this one alive!?

Kaido: Think about it. How many people can you say, with certainty, have been brave enough to charge your fire attacks, let alone come out unscathed?

King: [eyes you with irritation] Not a single person.

You: Fuck both of you, put me down! [narrowly miss clipping King's mask with your weapon]

Kaido: I think we've found the most valuable thing in this village, there is no need to waste any more time here.

King: [huffs in frustration before turning to the crew] Alright, it's time to pull back, Kaido has what he's looking for.

Sasaki: Ehh! But there is still so much we could take! We found a whole cellar of booze.

Kaido: [looks at you out of the corner of his eye before making up his mind] Leave it.

Black Maria: This isn't like you at all, leaving booze behind, I hope you'll share with me what's happening.

Kaido: What's going on is I want this one to join our crew [tossing his thumb over his shoulder, in your direction]

You and the Beast Pirate crew: WHAT!

You: Why would I join your crew?

Kaido: Not would, will. You will join my crew. Also, if you do, I will not only leave your village alone, it will fall under my protection, and I won't tax them.

King: You're not gonna even tax them a little bit?

Kaido: Not if they accept my deal.

You: [grits your teeth] Fine.

Kaido: Okay then, let's move out.

On Kaido's Ship

King: how did you make it through my fire?

You: I used Leidenfrosts effect in a two-part defense. I grabbed a quilt my neighbor had hanging out to dry on their laundry line, then dowsed it and myself in a nearby fishpond. I climbed up on the roof and used the quilt to make it through the brunt of your attack, to jump off the roof. When the water evaporated, I then tossed the quilt to the side and attacked you.

King: Leidenfrost effect?

You: When your fire hit me, it rapidly evaporated the water, creating a protective layer of steam around me. I wasn't sure it'd even work, I figured, fuck it, it was worth a shot. [shrugs]

Kaido: [cackles] I knew there was more to you than meets the eye.

King: so you damn near beheaded me with science?... I think I'm starting to see what Kaido sees in you.

You: please don't

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #beast pirates #kaido #kaidou #king the wildfire #king the conflagration #sasaki #black maria #animal kingdom pirates #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #no beta we die like men

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thatbennybee · 5 months ago

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ChordStriker!AU Q&A

I'm doing a bit of a Q&A about my ChordStriker!AU on insta after sharing this teaser WIP, so I figured I'd present some of the questions here! (Feel free to ask more btw!)

↓↓↓

Rock!Poppy

Q: "Is Poppy's family (Peppy & Viva) still with her since the Bergens didn't attack them?"

A: Peppy is with her, but he is confused/in mental decline like canon King Thrash was. Viva is missing. Poppy was old enough to remember her.

Q: "Will Viva play somewhat of a role in this AU?"

A: Yes, she's had a much bigger impact on Poppy's life, even till this day even though she's been missing for many years now. Poppy has never stopped looking for her.

Q: "Is King Peppy still a liar in your AU?"

A: Nah, he's normal. Sometimes hating him with my entire being is hard, so he gets to be a good dad this time. He's just not all there mentally so Poppy is more like his caretaker now.

Q: "Poppy's relationships don't last long because she gets bored... So how long is Branch going to last?"

A: The Rat Pack (Snack Pack) is wondering the same thing, but Poppy's never used the bf/gf/partner labels before meeting him which is strange... 👀

Q: "Does Poppy still party?"

A: She's a total party animal! Her parties are even more intense than a Pop Troll party since Rock Trolls are pretty extreme. LOL

---

Pop!Barb (Barbie)

Q: "What does Barb look like?"

A: For now, this is her design, it might change once I have time to draw her digitally.

Q: "Does this mean Barb has to go through the events of Trolls 1?"

A: Nope, Barb never befriends Bridget because they have never met. They have found a way to remain undetected in the forest. (Thanks to Branch’s constant nagging about safety)

Q: "How does Barb's gang look? Is there any significant differences in their dynamics?"

A: I haven't had time to finish them all, but here's some of them for now. There's more members of The Lunch Rush, but this is all I have for now!

Val Thundershock → Valentina Wondershock.

Only Queen Barbie calls her Val. She is very optimistic & loves to sing & dance! She's Barbie’s right-hand troll, BFFL & knows everything about her. They have a very... "close" relationship. ;] She's a popstar who's managed by Demo and loves to help make Pop Village a happier place.

Riff

He's a university student studying to be an engineer. He's very soft spoken, doesn't like to make a fuss and is probably the nicest guy around. He's quite close to Barbie and sees her as an older sister. He's actually on friendly terms with Branch. His favorite treat is lollipops. 🍭

Carol

But you can call her Carrie! Everyone does. She's a bit of a diva, loves to look good & dull things bore her. She will ignore anything that doesn't catch her eye, even trolls. Best to be looking your very best!

Sid Fret

Just call him Sid, no need to be so formal. He is every trolls dream guy and he knows it! He's a great roller derby racer and loves the attention trolls give him. Sure, he's a little self-absorbed, but he's a very loyal friend.

Demo

Not much has changed about Demo. He's perfect as he is <3 He's just a little more excitable & cutesy than before. He cares about Valentina a lot & they are very close friends.

Petra

She is the blueprint, she's the moment, she's everything. A model, actress, singer, you name it, she can do it. She's perfect... Who doesn't want to be her?

---

Branch

Q: "How different is Branch in this AU vs canon Branch?"

A: He is the same Branch essentially, just without the development he gains at the end of Trolls 1 & so-on. None of it occurred, so he is still grey, miserable & a recluse. He helped Barb to come up with a plan to keep everyone safe after nagging & warning her for ages, but after that, he returned to his bunker & is still not well-liked by the village.

Q: "Does she know Branch's whole past? If she does, what was her reaction?"

A: Not sure if you meant Barb or Poppy, so I'll answer for both. Barb—no. I don't think she'd ever find out, and she's also not the type to ask. Their personalities clash a bit too much, she stays out of his way like he asks her to.

For Poppy—I think it would come up naturally in conversation after a while when Branch feels more comfortable sharing. Poppy isn't the type to pry, but makes it clear that it's out of understanding, not a lack of caring. She can tell that he is closed off for a reason. She relates to that. I think she'd be beyond pissed once he told her, though.

Q: "Will Branch's brothers be in this?"

A: Yes, but Floyd will be getting the bigger role this time.

Q: "How quickly does Branch fall for Poppy? I'm sure the answer is yes, but is he happy?"

A: I'd say he's quite guarded in the beginning. He is cautious around her for the first few weeks, but he starts to come around once he picks up on Poppy being emotionally guarded herself.

Things move quickly once their walls come down around each other, & a mutual understanding is there. Poppy fell for him first. (At least, that's what Branch lets her believe, as it was love at first sight for him, but he'd never tell her that; she'd get a big head about it.)

#this isnt all of the questions but the post is getting long #trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls poppy #trolls branch #broppy #askbee #thatbennybee #trollsbuzz #chordstriker!barb #chordstriker!branch #chordstriker!poppy #chordstriker au #cs!broppy #cs!branch #cs!poppy #cs!barb

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 11 months ago

Note

Hey dude. It's me - anon with that SAGAU!kid!reader idea. Well, I was thinking about Liyue or Sumeru men (I'm that kind of person, that's into guys LOL). If there is a relationship, then only platonic one (or maybe father-child in Zhongli's case).

So I will try to go with Zhongli, Baizhu, Alhaitham and Cyno (probably Gaming, cuz he's like a son to me) That's it for now Hope I didn't ask for much tho 😅

CONNECTED TO THIS IDEA!

Aye aye, Anon! God!Child! Reader Platonic Meets Ups It is!

Also plz note that I might not be able to list every Sumeru/Liyue man there is in Genshin bc Im doing this at the top of my head—

Sumeru And Liyuen Men (And Gaming) With The God Child.

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Cyno

The General Mahamatra may not exactly be well-versed when it comes to comforting words (except his puns—and even then, many people would say otherwise), but Cyno is a sincere man. You can trust that he will stick to his word.

And he does, when he promised to look after the Almighty Creator who is a child (not unlike Nahida, but they certainly have more of a mindset of a child—). But was he expecting your chaotic behavior (explosives Klee Style)? Yeah...No.

Bro nearly thought you were held at gunpoint or tricked/manipulated into doing it until he realized you did on your own.

"...Your Grace...Please don't blow up the store again." So instead of protecting you from harm by others, Cyno is more focused on protecting others from harm by you. As much as he doesn't like to think of it that way, you were a lot more dangerous than any eremite or sand monster there was out there.

At least he's still doing his job, being the General Mahamatra! You gift him a flower crown, and he has to take it or else. :)

Tighnari

Since he works with many young forest rangers, and tutors Collei, Tighnari is probably used to dealing with children. Dealing with the Almighty Creator certainly wasn't going to be an issue under this Forest Watcher's eyes.

That was...until you blew up a rishboland tiger. By yourself. On your own. Without getting hurt.

He was not the only freaking out, mind you. Collei was losing it, and Tighnari? He's internally screaming and getting metaphorical heart attacks.

"Your Grace, what were you thinking, running off like that? I know you're strong and you want to protect everyone, but you can really hurt the environment and—" He tries his best to hold back his sassiness while he scolds you, considering some children are much more emotional than others.

He sets up some basic rules for you to follow to make sure that you respect the Avidya Rainforest grounds, but also protect yourself from any form of harm.

Bro becomes a helicopter parent while you're under his care. Have fun, and I hope you enjoy mushrooms. Collei will cook you something else if you don't like what Tighnari cooks, though. :)

Kaveh

This man. He will BUILD you toys. He will DRAW you stories. He may even tell you stories himself.

Mehrak is your best friend when you're around Kaveh. And that man tries his best to make sure your time with him is good. He also refrains from drinking, which is nice! He's improving a little! :D

Absolutely gets worried if you run off without him knowing or if you're hiding from him for too long while playing hide and seek. He goes into an utter MELTDOWN.

And if you blow something up? Boy, if you thought Tighnari getting metaphorical heart attacks was bad, think again—Kaveh might actually get a heart attack.

"Your Grace! What—What were you thinking? Where were you? What did you do? Why did I hear an explosion?!" He's trying to keep himself as calm as possible, but Kaveh is an emotional man. He's kind of failing—

Luckily, with your go-lucky attitude, you pull Kaveh around and take his mind off of work and your explosions! Win-win! :D

Al-haitham

The moment Nahida assigned him the task of taking care of the Almighty Creator, who is a child, bro is planning his things carefully. He is safe-keeping his books, he's renovating Kaveh's bedroom (bc yes), he's buying a few colouring books and crayons.

What he caught him by surprise was not how trusting you were to new strangers you barely knew. It was how you had fun with explosions and exploding everything in your path.

You can imagine as you're being carried away by the Scribe, he's giving you a one-sentence scolding.

"Your Grace, don't ever do that again, it's not nice." He would go into further detail, but he's sure you wouldn't care all that much about data and analysis and stuff like that, so he just ends it as it is.

You're still gonna do it, there's no doubt. It's just now Al-haitham is preparing for your next incoming attack as well.

Zhongli

Grandpa gramps is here woohoo! He's probably the most calmest out of everyone on this request list LOL. You can imagine he's following you calmly, apologizing and paying (through Childe's money cough) for the damages you caused.

Believe it or not, but it was Hu Tao who found you first and decided to take you to Mr. Zhongli for babysitting. He contemplates how the Director found you and brought you back.

The first time you explode something, he is definitely surprised. And concerned of the people who got hurt. You can't fault him for being worried for the mortals that were involved—Liyue Harbor is basically his child. Bro's been governing it for thousands of years.

"Your Grace, Little One, let's try not to put strain in the efforts of an adult's day-to-day life." He scolds you, and will definitely be more keen on your whereabouts, but he does this in a gentle tone. At the very least, you give him something to do that doesn't require him to present himself as the supposedly "deceased" Geo Archon.

Baizhu

With the guy's health issues...it's hard to say if he'll be able to keep up with you and your constant outings all around Liyue Harbor. Changsheng is definitely worried about Baizhu's stress levels as he has to figure out what you did this time and make sure no one was harmed.

He constantly has to ask Qiqi to go find you since he literally cannot keep up with your speed, lest he actually faints or something. You were that quick.

Luckily, if he hears of your whereabouts, he will definitely arrive just in time to apologize and give free check-ups to everyone involved in your explosion party.

"Now, Your Grace, please refrain from hurting others. It's not good to hurt someone's health." You can certainly expect Baizhu to give you a scolding—as well as a basic understanding of medical care in case either you or someone else will need it, and he can't make it there in time.

Like Kaeya (And Tighnari in this post), Baizhu will definitely write you some rules in a notebook and makes you recite them at least twice a day so that you remember not to hurt other people or damage your own health.

He is a doctor for a reason. It's his job to look out for others—even chaotic children with explosives.

Gaming

HAVE NO FEAR, GAMING IS HERE!

Bro is basically your Big Brother who does cool dances and gives you snacks and protects you. Since he's a real foody, you'll definitely know which places are the best to buy snacks!

You find his Wushou Dancing cool as well. He takes pride in it tbh. I mean, who wouldn't be ecstatic if the Almighty Creator loves it?

He does get a bit panic-y when he sees you blow things up, though. As much as he wants to pursue Wushou Dancing as his daily career, he still needs his job as a Shipment Guard.

"Y/N! No! Don't blow that up—!" Yes, he took you out once to travel with the shipment goods for one time, and he's never taken you with him again unless you promise not to blow anything that are near the goods.

He usually leaves you in Liyue Harbor when he's making these Shipment trips, but once he returns, you can certainly count on him to give you some tasty snack or a fulfilling dinner, as well as a free small Wushou Dance.

Big Brother Gaming does not disappoint!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I AM VERY DEAD. I AM SO SORRY SOBBING. Life hits you hard and fast sometimes sigh. I've been so busy I haven't been posting much—but rest assured, I have quite a lot of posts for you guys very soon!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

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ln4bub · 1 year ago

Note

and i conclude with 36 + lando

(ofc no pressure on any of the asks, feel free to ignore any/all of them if they don’t tickle ur fancy hehe)

It’s winter break and you’ve never been more grateful to have Lando home, except for the fact that all he's done is game with Max.

Every. Single. Night.

First it was Rocket League, and then Counter Strike, and then Tarkov, and now you were sat in the background watching him yell at Fall Guys. Part of you had to admit that it was comical watching him try and fail so many times, but you wanted attention. There was only so much watching you could do, you're just a girl after all. You silently make your way over to Lando's gaming chair, draping yourself over the side to rest your chin on his shoulder. "How much longer will you be baby?" You whisper, lifting his headset slightly so he hears you.

"Like an hour maybe, I'm not sure. Why? Are you hungry? I can order food?" He suggests, eyes flicking briefly from the screen to look at you. "Don't need food." You whine, pouting lightly before placing a gentle kiss to Lando's neck. He swallows thickly, "Babe my friends can all hear, what do you want me to do?" He murmurs, muting himself whilst he waits for the next round. "Want you Lando." You tell him, continuing to press kisses across his neck, travelling along his jaw, feeling it clench with each soft touch of your lips.

"Just let me finish this level and I swear I'll go down on you until you cum at least three times." He tells you, pleading eyes under his glasses. You sigh, "Fine. But I'm holding you to that." He winks up at you before unmuting himself and picking up his controller to play the next round. You lay yourself on the centre of the bed, zoning out on your phone as Lando continues playing. You hear the occasional yell or slam of the controller, nothing unusual when he's gaming. You get lost in the world of Instagram, swiping through Daniel's end of season .jpg post.

You forget about Lando's promise, that is until you feel his warm hands on your thighs. You jump with the touch and he chuckles at you, "Gonna let me fulfil my promise baby?" He whispers, his warm breath tickling the apex of your thighs. Lando smirks when you raise your hips to allow him to remove your pyjama shorts. "Thank you princess." He smiles, kissing your lips before returning to his position between your legs. His lips explore your inner thighs, hands gently prying your legs apart. Soft whimpers escape your lips at the light scratch of his new facial hair.

His lips cover practically every inch of your thighs before his tongue darts out to flick at your entrance, collecting the arousal that's collected there. He starts slow, snaking his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking gently as his hand rests on your pubic bone, keeping your hips still. His lips encase your clit, causing you to moan out as he sucks lightly, his tongue swirling and flicking. He eats you out like a man starved, uncaring about the way your arousal coats his mouth or the way his spit begins to soak you further.

He brings his finger to your entrance, circling it around the pulsing hole before pushing in. Your hips buck as your back arches away from the mattress, Lando moaning against your pussy at the way you clench around his finger. He curls his finger, his tongue working overtime on your clit as he slips a second finger in to join the first.

"Fuck Lando, oh my god." You moan, hand gripping the back of his head, tangling in his curls. He continues his ruthless pace drawing your first orgasm from you unbelievably quickly, but he doesn't stop. He slows his pace, lightly guiding you through your orgasm. Once he feels the pulsing of your walls slow he curls his fingers once more, attacking your g-spot as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. You scream out in overstimulation, your legs shaking as his hand becomes sticky with arousal. His hips begin to rut into the mattress, desperate for an ounce of friction. Your first orgasm hardly fades as the second one barrels into you, your walls clenching Lando's fingers so tight he could swear they would break.

This time he does pull away, encouraged by the way you frantically push at his head. You use your grip on his head to pull his lips to yours, he groans in your mouth at the feeling of your tongue. His groan turns into a whimper as you cup his bulge, massaging gently. He wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling your hand away, causing you to look at him in confusion.

"I said at least three didn't I?" He smirks, kissing his way back down your stomach to finish his meal.

#f1 smut #formula one smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #lando smut #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 smut #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fanfiction

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the-ancient-dragons · 6 months ago

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EXTRA OVERCOMPLICATED ICEWIIIIINGS

You know how it goes, Joy Ang is cool and I'm not yadda yadda move on.

Details and explanation below!

Otherwise, next week is the last Pyrrhian tribe: NightWings!!!! See you then!

More overcomplicated dragons.

If the RainWings are the design that destroys Joy's work the least, this one takes the original IceWings and tosses them out the window. Going into this design I knew it would be hard, but boy was I unprepared to get art block for 2 months because of it.

I eventually found my inspiration in the girdled, spiny, and horned lizards, They. Are. So. Freaking cool. If you think a crocodile skink is awesome, look up girdled lizards. Not as fancy with the eyeliner but they are SPIKY!

I fell in love in particular with the giant girdled lizard. I knew I wanted the scales of the IceWing to look rough and like they were made of actual ice or diamonds - or covered in frozen sleet and snow - and this lizard was basically perfect inspo for that. Also, blue spiny lizards. They are basically real life IceWings, full stop.

But even though I had perfect references to draw from, I still struggled with the head shape. I wanted them to feel like a reptilian polar bear, which is why I slightly blunted it, but I think I should have gone with a more angular shape instead. I can always change it later when I do their full-body.

I did have a very fun time with the horns, however. I wanted them to be a mix of narwhal teeth and icicles (yes, narwhal 'horns' are actually overgrown teeth. One tooth, usually, but sometimes they can have two!!). Before I get distracted I should explain how they grow: the scales at the base of the horn are constantly growing and essentially create the horn. That's what gives them their narwhal-like spirals.

I chose a similar approach to the neck spikes (untangling that mess was fun, let me tell you. Grids are very useful when doing many scales/spikes). At the base of each one you'll notice a scale forming it. On the back, I wanted to give a good side profile of the spikes. Technically, they are ever-growing, and need to be trimmed or sharpened constantly.

Now, as I was drawing them, I asked myself: why do IceWings need a mane of spikes?

A stupid question, you might wonder, but to me it's very important. Animals look the way they do for survival. So, while it's important visually for the ice theme, how could they be explained scientifically?

And then, when thinking of polar bears, I got my answer.

How the hell does a giant sparkly dragon hunt in the north? Seals would probably be part of their diet, but it's hard to sneak up on them if you're a ten ton reptilian flying creature, so I imagine they would tackle the problem like a polar bear would by waiting by a breathing hole and pouncing at the right moment. They already look like a frozen snowbank, so that part is easy.

But any hungry polar bear would be doing the same thing, and like a giant dragon, they would be waiting downwind of the breathing hole too. They wouldn't pose a threat to adult dragons or dragonets larger than them, but in real life polar bears are dangerous hunters and prey on humans. Why wouldn't it prey on a dragonet it thinks it can take on? Things in the WOF universe seem to be extra big (or scavengers/humans are tiny) so I think it would be a feasible for a desperate bear to hunt a dragon. They cannibalize, anyway, so going after another apex predator isn't out of the question. In this case, the horns and neck spikes would be a dragonet's saving grace, discouraging attacks from behind and especially on their necks. A bear's teeth could never get through their scales, but they could still crush their airways and choke them, and the spikes would keep them away from their necks and protect them from that fate. As they grow up, the neck spikes' length and strength could be used to determine a dragon's health and help them select good partners.

Finally, continuing with the bear theme: for the scales, I took inspiration from polar bear fur (which is actually hollow) to help design how IceWings preserve their body heat. In polar bears, its used to make them look white by reflecting the light of the sun, but in IceWings it could keep the cold out. Air pockets would create a barrier between them and the outside elements, and whatever gets in would meet their thick layer of fat that does the real warming. Yes, IceWings would be squishy, but you'd probably poke your eye out or stick permanently to their side a la tongue to cold metal pole.

Don't hug IceWings; they're very cold.

#wof #wings of fire #wof art #art #my art #digital art #icewing #wof icewing #wof fanart #Overcomplicating the WOF Tribes

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ferrstappen · 2 years ago

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aren't we supposed to surprise you? l Charles Leclerc blurb

pairing: dad!Charles Leclerc x female reader.

you can find more of my version of dad Charles' here <3

summary: you somehow manage to overshadow Charles and Jo's gift.

Charles was an anxious man. Even more so since Josephine was born two years ago.

Yes, people laughed at him but he didn't care, he was going to sprint towards his daughter every time she took a wrong step and fell down, or his system would shut down whenever her lower lip trembled. Charles could communicate with his daughter through her eyes, they told him everything he needed to know in the meantime before she learned how to properly express herself.

They were an unstoppable duo, everybody knew that, but Charles was aware the reason both him and Jo could feel at ease and safe was you, and maybe he didn't remind you enough of that.

His mother and younger brother accompanied him to the various shops around Monaco, Pascale having to fight Charles to let her carry the stroll on the street, Arthur shaking his head at Charles' antics, playfully pitying his niece.

"I am going to make sure to take her to the worst tattoo parlors and pubs when she's older and then I'm showing you the images so you can die of a heart attack," Arthur teased his brother, earning a glare from Charles while being chastised by his mother, but the youngest Leclerc saw a smile on his mom's face.

Arthur winked at his niece and she giggled. Lorenzo had no chance of ever being the favorite uncle.

They entered different shops, not wanting to go for the typical jewelry and overly expensive designer clothing and accessories. No, Charles wanted to give you something you'd truly appreciate, something for you to relax and show yourself some love and distraction. Now it was turn for Arthur to carry Josephine while teasing his brother for being a simp.

A couple of books he thought you'd enjoy, different colored bath bombs, luxurious soaps and candles were some of the goods you were going to receive for Mother's Day.

Dad and baby Leclerc arrived got home greeted by the smell of coffee and some kind of pastry. It smelled like Charles' dream life; his life.

You smiled at Charles and gave him a quick peck on the lips before taking Josephine from his arms, your daughter babbling about papa and maman.

It was past midnight, Josephine sound asleep on her room after both you and Charles read her a short book in Italian, trying to accustom her to the language, all while you marveled at how Charles did the different voices and intonations.

Now it was just you and him in bed, his naked chest against your own skin, while his familiar hand found its place on your thigh, drawing shapeless figures, enjoying the peace of having you with him.

"I have to tell you something," You made sure to not make eye contact with Charles, hiding your face against his neck.

Charles chuckled with your reaction, "What is it and why are you hiding, bebé?" He tried to get you to face him.

"I know this wasn't planned or anything," you began talking but know Charles felt tears on his chest, it got him worried and helped you sit on the bed while assuring you whatever it was, you'd be able to find a solution.

"Babe, I'm two months pregnant," you announced and Charles placed his hand on his mouth in astonishment.

"No, in Bahrein?" Charles blurted out and a smile appeared on your face, of course that would be his first reaction as his brain processed the news.

You didn't know what you were expecting, maybe it was a problem because Josephine was still too young, maybe Charles didn't want another baby, you never really discussed it after Jo was born, but even in the dark his glossy green eyes were shining as his hand found its known place on your neck, his thumb softly caressing your cheek before lovingly kissing you.

those one of a kind kisses, the ones that were special and held so many emotions. neither of you could hide the smile appearing, only smiling at each other, Charles still caressing your cheek.

but suddenly he dropped his hand to your thigh, an unreadable expression on his face.

"But it's mother day and you're surprising me? No, I have this whole thing planned!" Charles protested and this made your eyes tear up, now it was your time to find his lips.

God, maybe it was time for a boy to mimic his dad.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #dad!charles leclerc #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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gallusrostromegalus · 9 months ago

Note

My drawing skills suck are very unpracticed but I have a mighty need to create fanart of the garbage tarot. I don't even know anything about the source material but I am in love with these idiots.

Actually... I do a lot more mixed-media than I do drawing........... Hmm...

As a Completely Unrelated Thought, what do you think Zaraki's handwriting would look like?

I'm glad you asked because there's na specific answer for AEIWAM fic! Zaraki!

(Note: in AEIWAM, Kakiyo was Tousen's adopted sister, not an unrequited crush, and she raised money to go to the academy by working as a travelling schoolteacher for a while)

---

The first time Yamamoto gets a report from Zaraki, it genuinely throws him for a loop. Its a thorough if somewhat gruesome report about the 11th dealing with a pack of hollows that had been attacking isolated villages. Nothing Yamamoto was not already used to, but reading descriptions of mutilated villagers is somehow more unsettling when the descriptions look like this:

(a stylistic example)

Yamamoto takes him to task next meeting.

(continued under the cut)

"I know you're still learning the job Zaraki, but you can't foist your paperwork off on Miss Kusajishi." Yamamoto growls.

"I... Didn't? What?" Zaraki looks extremely confused, but the Captain-General is not fooled.

"You mean to tell me THIS is your handwriting?" Yamamoto snaps, throwing the report on the table, sheets spilling out as it slid down the length of it, so everyone could see the bizarre cutesy hand it was written in.

Zaraki's face darkened, jaw clenched. "Yeah. What about it? You goin' blind as well as senile?" He growled.

"THIS IS THE HANDWRITING OF A LITTLE GIRL, ZARAKI, DO YOU HAVE THE SAME HANDWRITING AS YOUR DAUGHTER?" Yamamoto slammed his hand on the table, temperature sharply increasing around him.

Zaraki began to arch his back and crackle with Reiatsu as well, but was stopped by loud ringing chime and a hand on his arm.

Yamamoto blinked in surprise to see Tousen, of all people , holding the giant back. There was a click as Tousen fully re-sheathed his sword. Suzumushi's chime wouldn't effect either of them, but it redirected their attention very effectively.

"My apologies, Yamamoto-sama." He bowed his head before turning his ear up at Zaraki. "Kakiyo wrote about this to me. You could only afford for one of you to receive schooling, right?"

Zaraki huffed and shook himself before answering. "Yeah, I was a broke-ass bastard before this." He grumbled, scratching his neck in a de-escalation feature. "Yer sister was a fuckin' saint and a genius. Neither of you have any business tellin' the whole world though."

"I think it was an exceptionally brave and difficult thing you did." Tousen shrugged. "Even when she used that method, less than one in a hundred parents actually stuck to it, much less achieved what you have."

Zaraki started looking everywhere but at Tousen, thinking. "... wouldn't call it brave, it was just makin' sure she was doin' good in school." He muttered.

Tousen kept listening intently at Zaraki. May I tell Yamamoto-sama so he doesn't cause another scene?"

"You're going to tell me what you're muttering about whether you like it or not." Yamamoto menaced.

"My sister taught Zaraki-taicho and Miss Kusajishi how to read and write." Kaname sighed and took off his goggles to rub the bridge of his nose. "It's extremely common in the Rukongai to have to teach children whose parents have never had any kind of schooling. Many of the parents would like to go to school too, but can only afford to send their children- actually , usually only one child. It's not usually an issue of money, but time- the parents can't afford to miss fishing season, or spare any siblings because they're needed on the farm. But, when you have a parent who is as attentive and caring as Zaraki-"

"Tttch!" Zaraki huffed at Kaname, who pointedly ignored him.

"-You can get around the schooling fees and scheduling problems by telling the student that their homework is to teach their parents what they learned in school that day. The homework you give the students is for their parents to do after they pass the lesson on and grade them on how well they taught their family." Kaname explained, putting his goggles back on. "Kakiyo was in awe of Miss Kusajishi's dedication to teaching you, and immensely proud of your efforts."

Zaraki still refused to look at Tousen, but his ears were bright red.

"...ohhh." Ukitake realized. "Wow, that's... I thought it was impossible to learn how after a certain age, that's - well, I don't think it's something I could have done!"

"What?" Glared Yamamoto.

"Zaraki-taicho and Miss Kusajishi have the same handwriting because he learned how to read and write by learning her school lessons from her." Unohana translated. "-An exceptionally difficult way to learn, and commendable for even trying." She continued, arching an eyebrow at him as a warning.

"Yeah and with all due respect Yama-ji? You're not exactly in a position to be complaining about anyone else's handwriting-" added Shunsui. "Zaraki's handwriting is odd, but it's perfectly legible. Nanao-chan framed your last memo because she thought it was an abstract painting."

Yamamoto turned to Shunsui with an aggravated glare.

"I'm afraid I have to second Kyoraku-taicho." Tousen said, without an ounce of chagrin in his voice. "The kido spell on my glasses can translate nearly everyone's hand, but the only person in the ninth who can read your memos to me is third-seat Maegawa, and mostly because she's had several centuries practice."

"Wait, we were supposed to be getting memos?" Mayuri squawked. "Dammit! I thought that squiggly garbage was the fax machine breaking every other week! I disassembled that thing three times trying to fix it!"

"You can all shut up now." Yamamoto snarled, and everyone did, but there were still a lot of pointed looks around the table, and Unohana's eyebrow had not resumed it's usual curvature yet. "Please consider my complaint withdrawn."

Unohana's eyebrow arched further and she cracked her eye open to reveal a coal-black iris, going from Warning to Threat.

"...My apologies, Zaraki-taicho. That was. Inconsiderate of me." Yamamoto muttered.

"Ya gonna shut up about it now?" Zaraki asked, not quite facing Yamamoto, but back still arched.

"I will hold my judgment in check in the future." Yamamoto acquiesced, watching him.

"Sure." Zaraki grunted, shaking his shoulders to drop the subject. "Right, what the fuck were we doing?" He asked, returning to the agenda.

---

After the meeting, Tousen took a minute to stand in the late afternoon sun, exhaling and releasing the tension of the day, when someone grabbed one shoulder and plopped something heavy on the other.

"Yeh didn't have to do that." Zaraki grunted just behind Tousen's ear, his forehead resting on the small man's shoulder, half gratitude, half grumble.

"One of the responsibilities of a captain is to keep the general in check, and I had a particularly good opening to stop that nonsense for good." Kaname hummed, hand reflexively coming up to touch the giant's head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing over the scarred visage and peculiar hairstyle.

"Didn't read that in the employee handbook." Zaraki grunted, grin in his voice.

"Yamamoto wrote those handbooks, and he'd rather we let him do as he pleases. You have to learn how to read between the lines, Zaraki." Kaname teased.

Zaraki gave his strange, low clicking chuckle of amusement and affectionately mock-bit Kaname's ear before standing up, still holding his other shoulder.

"...Thanks. " he muttered, giving his arm a squeeze and stepping away. "Gotta go pick up Sensei, you talk to her if you think I need more tutoring!" Zaraki waved, striding off to collect Yachiru in completely the opposite direction from her school.

"ITS THE OTHER- oh, he'll figure it out." Kaname sighed.

The sun was low in the sky, but it was still warm, and the first Cricket of summer started chirping, startling him. Suzumushi chirped with it, singing her mournful loss of her original wielder, but not so despairing this time.

"Kaname?" Sajin asked, heard before he was felt as usual. The lieutenant's meeting must have wrapped up late.

Kaname smiled and put a finger up, indicating he should listen. Sajin did, helmet tipping slightly to hear.

"Crickets!" Sajin realized, and offered Kaname his gauntlets hand to lead him home. "...I miss Kakiyo too." He sighed.

"You're not really gone if some part of you lives on in someone else." Kaname hummed. "I realized she is not so far gone today."

"Oh?" Sajin asked. "Where does she live on?"

"Have you read any of Zaraki-taocho's reports yet?" Kaname grinned. "His hand is not his hand alone."

#Bleach #Bleach Fanfic #AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #kenpachi zaraki #kaname tosen #kaname tousen #genryusai shigekuni yamamoto #long post under the cut #its cute

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